


Captivate

by BearWritesThings (Halaani)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Alternate Universe-GTA, Descent into Crime, He is also no a happy bear, Jack is a Woman, Jeremy Gets The Short End of The Stick, Kidnapping, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 04:36:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5953846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halaani/pseuds/BearWritesThings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"A hard beginning maketh a good ending."- John Heywood</i>
</p>
<p>It starts with a bank robbery. </p>
<p>It ends in a way Jeremy could have never, ever guessed. </p>
<p>In between there's multiple kidnappings(most of them his own), awkward parties with gang members, amazing dates with his boyfriends, so much coffee he starts actually adding it's own section on the monthly budget, a battle against his own morals and way too many guns for him to be happy. Seriously, why are there so many guns in his shop?!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captivate

_"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages."- William Shakespeare_

 

He'd just wanted to deposit his paycheck. The payroll software at the garage had malfunctioned and payroll had been done by hand and so were the checks. So on Friday, his extra day off, he'd gone to the bank in the company of his childhood friends and long-time roommates Trevor and Matt. If he was completely honest with himself, he wished they were something more than roommates, but Jeremy didn't dare bring it up, for fear of ruining the wonderful life they had. They'd stood in line for twenty minutes, talking and joking and making plans for pizza and video games that night, Jeremy had cashed his check and Trevor had withdrawn money from his account, since it was his turn to cover the pizza, and they'd been headed for the door when everything went to hell in a neat handbasket.

They came strolling through the door like they owned the place, four people waving assault rifles and shouting for everyone to hit the ground and shut up. Jeremy's protective instincts kicked in as one of the men, wearing the terrifyingly well known black skull mask of the Vagabond, swung his rifle towards them and commanded for them to get down, voice cold and quiet in the chaos around them. Jeremy gently pushed his friends down and then held his own arms up in the air by his head, sinking to his knees in a controlled motion.

"We're listening, we're listening. Just- we're doing it okay?" His voice broke embarrassingly but he didn't think anyone would fault him given the situation, and his breath came a little easier when the man lowered the rifle, even if he kept his eyes trained on them. Jeremy sunk face down into the carpet, nose crinkling at the sour scent of the carpet and the rough feeling against his face. As the Vagabond walked away Jeremy sighed as someone, likely Trevor, wrapped his hand around his ankle and Matt wrapped his hand in Jeremy's shirt. They'd always leaned on each other for comfort, so he wasn't surprised when they went for it and he tried to radiate calm, if only for thier sakes, even as fear soured his gut and caused his breath to shake in his chest.

Jeremy kept his ear on the situation as best he could, listening as the robbers, and it could only be the Fake AH Crew if the Vagabond was here, demanded the money from the tellers and to open the vault while two of them prowled amongst the men and women on the ground. Jeremy flinched as he could hear crying and muffled curses and even scared praying from the frightened bank patrons in the still air, but other than that was the occasional command to remain on the ground. Jeremy risked turning his head towards the center of the bank to take in the situation. One man had curly auburn hair and was crouched behind one of the grand marble pillars and staring out the window while another, taller man with spiky blonde hair knelt behind a desk, tapping away at a laptop while a gold plated pistol rested on his thigh. Here and there paced a masked person in all black, and Jeremy's heart sank when he realized they'd brought back up to cover them.

"You. Come with me." Jeremy yelped as a big hand grasped his neck roughly and started forcing him to his feet and he was brought face-to-face with the Vagabond. Matt's little gasp and Trevor's startled whimper were the last thing he heard as the bigger man started dragging him away, and he cast desperate glances at them as he was marched behind the counter where the tellers were still being held at gunpoint by two people in black. He didn't dare say anything as Vagabond pulled him down the back halfway to a conference room, where a man in a suit with sleepy blue eyes and more tattoos on his hands than Jeremy had seen on most other peoples' whole bodies sat. He was talking on a phone, sounding at ease despite the fact that they were in the middle of robbing a bank. 

"Fakehaus and the rest of the Roosters are keeping the cops busy. Yes, we're being safe. Yes, we are. Look-Jack I love you but the Vagabond's back, so I gotta go. We'll be ready in five minutes or some shit." He cut the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket and turned towards the approaching pair. The Vagabond pushed him and Jeremy stumbled forward until he was standing in front of the seated man, and he averted his eyes meekly, trying to appear as harmless and non-threatening as was possible. "This the one?" Jeremy stood stock still as the man looked behind him. If that was the Vagabond, that meant this was Geoff Ramsey, leader of the Fake AH Crew and one of the founding members of the RT Syndicate.

Geoff hooked a foot in the legs of one of the other rolling chair and flicked it towards Jeremy almost lazily. "Take a seat kiddo." He ordered and his voice left no room for argument, not that Jeremy would have dared when he was trapped between one of the most feared assassins in the country and one of the most dangerous gang leaders on the continent, and he sank into the chair. 

"I'm not gonna lie to you bud, you're in a shit position, but it doesn't have to be all that bad. See, we need a little insurance, something to keep the cops off of us long enough to make it clear and then leave us alone. You're gonna be that insurance." Jeremy trembled at the implication. Movies had left him, and anyone else who'd seen them, with frightening images of what being a hostage could entail, and the news didn't help at all either. "I'm not into that whole "gotta beat up your hostages to make 'em obedient" shit. See, I think you're smart enough that you'll be real good for us all on your own. Because I think you know what'll happen to your little butt buddies if you don't."

Geoff reached into a bag on the floor and pulled out a miniature bottle of water, which he set on the table to his right between them. "You're gonna drink that all, spend a few days with us, and when I think it's safe, you'll get to go home." He made it all sound so simple, like he was simply organizing a place for a business partner to spend a few night after his hotel had messed up and not forcing Jeremy to choose between being a hostage and terrible harm to those he cared for deeply. Apparently he'd been still too long for the man's patience.

"Drink it, or I'll send Vagabond out for the skinny one with the black hair. I think he'd make some wonderful noises after a few hours with us, don't you?" Jeremy startled, ice washing through him as he scrabbled for the bottle.

_"No!"_ He shouted, voice failing him when blue eyes leveled him with an unimpressed stare. "I'll drink it. I'll go quietly. I'll do whatever you tell me just leave Trevor and Matt alone. _Please."_ The last plea was quiet, timid and Geoff softened his face fractionally it seemed and, if it were under different circumstances, Jeremy would have sworn something like approval flashed in his gaze. He unscrewed the bottle with shaking hands and took the first sip. If it was poison then it didn't taste any different and he quickly forced himself to drink the rest of the bottle. 

Tattooed fingers removed the bottle from his unresisting grip, and Jeremy was stunned as black began to creep into the edge of his vision. Startlingly soft hands braced against his forehead and pushed him back further in the chair and fingers lingered on his cheek as he gazed hazily into the face of the blue eyed crime lord as he whistled. "Caleb wasn't kidding, shit acts fast as dicks." He murmured as he turned to address someone at the door. The fingers left his face and another set of blue eyes and a strong face filled his gaze, the black skull mask clutched in one hand.

"Just let it work, kid. Everything'll be okay if you let it do its work." Jeremy's last thought as he drifted away was that no one as violent and scary as the Vagabond should look that good.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Geoff grinned as he sat at his desk, reading over the final report for the haul after everyone else, Fakehaus and the Roosters, had received their portions. The bank had been a literal gold mine of cash and valuables and their fortune had grown exponentially. He could hear the others down the hall in the living room, deep into their cups already and screaming abuse as they played Halo. He'd join them shortly, he just needed to check on their guest before he did. He swiveled his chair to the monitor on the side desk, turning it on to reveal the feed. They'd left him in one of the nicer cells downstairs, sprawled out on the bed. Lindsay had taken his watch, belt and shoes and Kdin had taken his phone while they were patting him down. Caleb had checked his breathing to make sure he wasn't having an adverse reaction to the sedative and then they'd left him to rejoin the festivities upstairs.

Jeremy Dooley was the name on the driver's license and a quick search had pulled up no criminal record, a well paying job at a local mechanic shop and a nice enough apartment on the south side with his two friends, the ones that had been at the bank with him. All in all, a hostage who would behave simply so he could do back to his life, if nothing else. The man's desperation to keep his friends safe was another reason he figured they'd made a good choice.

He pulled his tumbler closer to him and sipped at the whiskey inside, eyes trained on the video feed. Jeremy was awake and on his feet, even if he was shaky as he fumbled around the room, trying to figure out where he was. There was really nothing to the room, Geoff knew, since the rooms were based off of prison cells. One bed, one table that was bolted down, a flimsy chair and a metal sink and toilet. There was no window and there was no knob on the inside, leaving the prisoner well and truly isolated from every thing.

He watched as Jeremy hugged himself and climbed onto the bed, tucking himself into the corner and hugging his knees to his chest. Geoff felt a little bit guilty, if only because the kid was young and he looked scared out of his mind and he made a note to move his planned visit up to tomorrow. The kid would spend a week or two there, and then Jack and Michael would drop him off somewhere while Gavin called in a tip to get him picked up and delivered safely home. 

He flipped off the monitor, rose from his chair and meandered out of the office. He was going to enjoy the celebrations, damnit, and he'd handle the rest in the morning.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jeremy was jolted awake by a loud knock on the door, and he sat straight up in the bed, blanket pooling at his waist. Sleep still heavy in his eyes and fear high in his chest he watched as the door swung open to reveal a woman with fiery red hair wearing a Pusheen shirt. She had handcuffs dangling from one hand and Jeremy's heart sank as he she crooked her finger at him. Shakily he climbed out of bed and edged towards her. "Turn around." Her voice was gentle enough, and Jeremy did as he was asked and she tightened the cuffs around his wrist, just enough to hold him fast but not so much he was in pain. She grabbed his elbow in a firm grip and led him out of the room, down a long hall and up a flight of stairs. This hall, unlike the cement one they'd just come from, was carpeted and soft underfoot and she pulled him to stop outside of an oak door. 

She opened the door to reveal an opulent bathroom. The woman undid the cuffs and pushed him forward gently. "You have fifteen minutes. I'll knock when time's up." He nodded nervously and she shut and locked the door behind him, leaving him alone. Folded on the toilet was a pair of plain boxers and some sweatpants and a white t-shirt and on the counter to the sink were two towels, an unopened bar of soap and a stick of deodorant. They wanted him to shower? He bolstered himself as best he could and turned on the shower, adjusting it until it was hot and then stripped out of his clothes.

He grabbed the soap and tore it open, making sure to put the trash in a little bin under the sink, and climbed under the water. He spent a few minutes just standing there, desperately battling fear and disbelief and hope. He was a hostage of the most feared Crew in the city. He'd drunk spiked water under the threat of harm to his friends, which had allowed him to be kidnapped from the bank. The Vagabond had been touching his face less than a day ago. And now, he was showering in a bathroom that was probably worth almost all of his apartment and he had no idea when, or even if, he was going to go home. Ramsey has said he was just insurance but was he going to be allowed to go home?

He rubbed his burning eyes in mortification as tears mixed with shower water and instead made quick work of cleaning himself and rinsing off and climbing out. He dried well and slipped into the clothes that had been left, a little frisson of unease arcing through him when everything fit him without difficulty. Cleaned and dressed he found himself without an idea what to do. The woman had said she would knock when time was up and she had yet to knock. So instead he folded his old clothes and left them on the sink and then sat on the edge of the toilet, fingers twined and head bowed.

Not too long passed before the knock came and he shot to his feet as the door swung open. The woman peeked her head through the door and motioned him out and Jeremy shivered as the cool air attacked him. He was maneuvered against a wall and a man handed him a paper, ordered him to hold it against his chest so the date was visible and quickly took a picture on his phone. Proof of life, his brain supplied and hope fluttered in his chest. If they were bothering to prove he was still alive, then there was every chance he might actually get out of this unharmed. Once the man was gone the woman restrained him again and he followed her back down the stairs and the long hall to the room he'd left earlier.

She undid the cuffs and he walked back in, stopping to take in the differences. On the bolted down table was now a tablet and a note, along with a plate of food and a few bottles of water. An extra blanket had been added to the bed and a toothbrush now sat in the cup on the sink. The door closed heavily behind him and he wandered over to to the table, picking up the note with careful fingers. It was simple in its contents, a command to eat what was brought to him, a notice that the tablet was for his use but wasn't connected to the house's internet and it told him the boss would be in to see him later in the day. His gut churned at that last but but he forced himself to eat the plate of eggs and sausage.

He pushed the plate away and took up the tablet, clambering onto the bed and wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. The stone room was cold, and he cocooned himself in the fabric before turning on the the tablet. There were movies and shows and games and books loaded on it, and he was glad he wouldn't be just sitting there left to his own thoughts and wishes to be home again. He contented himself with a disney movie, feeling only a little ridiculous for his choice, until there was another knock on the door. He paused the movie, his second one, and untangled himself from the blanket, coming to stand in the center of the room. It swung open to reveal the same red-headed woman as before, who set another plate of food on the table and grabbed his old dishes.

"Knock on your door when you're done. Boss wants to talk to you." Jeremy nodded and went to the table again. There was a sandwich and some carrot sticks and pretzels and a coke, and he choked it down in an effort to make himself appear as willing as possible. Who knew that the reaction would be if he started turning his nose up at the food. Better to swallow past the nerves and eat it than end up starved because they took offense. Once the food was gone he took a steadying breath and walked to the door, knocking on it with as much confidence as he could muster before he stepped back towards the bed. The door swung open and Geoff Ramsey strode in, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, and Jeremy was astounded by the amount of tattoos he could see on the man's arms.

"Take a seat." Jeremy did as the older man ordered and perched on the side of the bed, turning his full attention on the boss. "Lindsay tells me you've been well-behaved since you woke up. No shouting or attempts to do anything silly like escape. Wise choice." He mumbled and Jeremy wrung his fingers nervously. The boss seemed to take a deep breath before he continued. "Just keep it up, kid. A week or two and you'll be able to go home. Someone will bring you food three times a day and take you to shower in the morning. No one will hurt you if you just do what your told to. Understand?" 

"Y-yes, Sir." He kept his voice quiet and just submissive enough that he saw something like a smirk on Ramsey's face out of the corner of his eye. The man stretched and grabbed the dishes in one hand, the other coming out to ruffle Jeremy's hair, ignoring that startled whimper that caught in the smaller man's throat as he made his way out of the room, leaving Jeremy alone again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The days fell into a, thankfully, easy pattern after that. Every morning someone would knock on the door and he would climb out of bed and allow himself to be restrained again before he would be led up to the bathroom, where he would shower and dress in the same outfit of sweats and a white t-shirt. Then he'd be set out in the hall and his picture would be taken with the day's newspaper, and he would be led back to his room where breakfast would be waiting. He would eat and then either sit on the bed or at the table and read or watch something on the tablet. Lunch would come with more bottles of water and a few hours after dinner always ended up with being brought to him. Jeremy figured out fairly quickly something was in the tea after the first night where he'd drunk it and, twenty minutes later he was wobbling to the bed as a haze settled over his vision. Why they felt the need to drug his tea, he never knew, but again he was too afraid to refuse to drink it. He never attempted to make conversation with whoever was his "handler" for the day, instead choosing to keep his countenance quiet and obedient.

Nothing changed until the twenty-fourth day of his captivity. He was, as was normal at this point, led upstairs to the bathroom to shower and have his picture taken with the paper. He was feeling snappish and surly and homesick after having caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His skin was pale and he looked ill, his beard thick and unkempt, the bruises under his eyes deep and startlingly dark despite his drugged sleep. Everything ached from the pervasive cold of his cell and the lack of physical activity and he just wanted to be home with Trevor and Matt again, curled between their warmth. He missed the easy affection that had been a staple of their lives for years, the ease with which they would lean into each other or seek one of the others out for comfort. 

He allowed his picture to be taken and to be led back to his room but, for the first time since he'd woken up in captivity, purposefully ignored the food brought down to him. Instead, he burrowed under the blanket and fought unsuccessfully against fear and self hated and anger and tears. He ignored lunch as well, drifting in and out of a fitful half-sleep state until the door slammed open resoundingly, admitting a sets of foot steps. 

"Get up!" He recognized Vagabond's voice and felt white hot anger surge through him. How dare that asshole demand anything of him?! They should have just left him alone at the bank, or let him go after they were home-free. There was no reason to keep him here!

Coordinating his protesting body as much as he could he stumbled out of bed, wound up and socked the man as hard as he could, something primal in him practically purring at the sight of bright red on his knuckles and streaming down a lightly tanned face into a close cropped blonde beard. He didn't hesitate to press his advantage, adrenaline and rage fueling him and bypassing all rational thought as he sprang with a bellow, bearing the man to the ground despite his lesser size. They rolled and scrapped, the larger man giving as good as he got but Jeremy was viciously pleased to land more than a few punches on the feared assassin. 

Finally the Vagabond was fed up with the proceedings and he reached for a small butterfly knife he kept on his belt, flicking it open and running it down Jeremy's arm with the intent of opening an injury deep and painful enough to distract him, nearly a foot long in length. Only it seemed to have the opposite effect as Jeremy grew positively feral in the face of the agony and started fighting dirty, planting his knee in Vagabond's groin and then wrapping his hands around the bigger man's throat, shaking him as best he could.

Vagabond was just getting ready to say fuck it to his boss's orders when hurried footsteps came up behind him and Michael slammed the butt of his rifle into the side of Jeremy's face, watching with controlled confusion as Jeremy slumped bonelessly to the floor, bleeding heavily from his arm and face.

"How did you fuck up this badly Ryan?!"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Geoff sat in the chair across from where Caleb was working over Jeremy, steady hands laying neat suture time and time again into pink flesh. Caleb had warned Geoff time and again that this kind of thing would happen. Humans weren't meant to be kept contained without sunlight or physical activity and contact, he said, and even maximum security prisoners of the state got time outside everyday, or in a gym. Geoff had waved him off, insisting that they'd kept prisoners like this way before. Caleb has rebutted that none of the prisoners before had been alive after the first week, so it didn't matter.

Geoff figured this was his chickens come home to roost.

Caleb sat back at last and sighed, setting aside his needle and grabbing a gauze sponge to clean the wound up before he wrapped it, put Jeremy's arm in a fabric sling and then used another length of strong cotton to bind the arm to his chest. Jeremy slept on, a combination of painkillers, sedatives and the head wound, which had also required stitches. Caleb checked his vitals and the IV, nodded stiffly to Geoff and left back to his connected office to handle what Geoff guess was paperwork.

He looked behind him as the main door swung open and raised his eyebrow as Ryan walked in, using a bloodstained cloth to clean the last blood from his beard. "He's good." He grunted, grudging admiration in his voice.

"Was he?" Geoff asked, turning towards the other man to get a proper look at him. Livid bruises were already coming to life on his face, and Geoff could see the outline of broad hands on his neck. 

"For someone with no formal training? Yes. He followed through well and he gave no ground. It was like fighting a small bear though." Ryan looked at his fallen opponent and Geoff could see he'd been pleased with the fight. "Given a little training he'd be a terror to go against. Like a large bear. Or several bears."

Geoff rolled his eyes good-nauredly and rose to his feet. They would have sent Jeremy home sooner, but it turned out that one his friends, the one named Trevor, was a favored secretary of one of the quieter, cleaner senators, and the man had put pressure on the cops to keep up the search for his employee's kidnapped friend, making a drop-off impossible without someone getting injured. Now though, the cops were pulling back and Geoff figured they could drop Jeremy off in front of somewhere. He shot off a quick message to Jack and Lindsay to get ready and poked his head into Caleb's room to give him the order to get his patient ready to travel.

His plans could wait a few weeks while Jeremy settled back into his home. Maybe he'd be less likely to strangle someone next time they saw each other.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Trevor paced outside the hallway from end to end, chewing on the sleeve of his hoodie. Matt was sitting in one of the chairs, fingers white-knuckled around the mug some nurse had offered up to him after he'd crushed the third cardboard one in his hands. A sympathetic looking police woman stood outside the one occupied room, watching the two friends as they waited for the all good to go see their friend.

Trevor hadn't expect the call at one in the morning, an older doctor telling them that their friend, who'd been missing for over three weeks, had been found dumped in the drive of the emergency room across town from their apartment. They hadn't done much more than throw on shoes and hoodies over thier pajamas before getting in Matt's car and speeding across town. A cop had met them at the entrance and brought them up to the ward where Jeremy was being settled. A doctor, nurses and a detective had been in with him for almost an hour now and as more and more time passed they got more and more anxious.

"You're giving me a headache." Matt's voice was quiet and taught, and he grabbed Trevor's wrist gently, pulling him to sit in the chair next to him and wrapping one long arm around the thin shoulders of his roommate. Trevor sighed and leaned into Matt, soaking in his warmth. They sat like that for another hour before the doctor came out, looking tired but pleased. 

"You both here for Mr. Dooley?" They nodded and rose stiffly to their feet, muscles tightened up from sitting still for all that time. "Well I've got good news for you gentlemen. While your friend's in a bit of a rough shape, he should make a full physical recovery. The wound on his arm was quite long and deep, but expertly stitched up, as was the smaller wound on his head. Both will likely scar unfortunately, despite to good suture work. He's covered in bruises, all of them recent, and there's markings around his wrists that are both old and new, likely from repeated use of restraints. We found traces of repeated use of a sedative in his blood stream, but no drugs. We don't want to discontinue the use suddenly, as it can be harmful to suddenly discontinue medications of that nature we'll send him home with a progressive kit, which will wean him off of it over the course of a month." He shuffled the papers on the clipboard, as if checking some final facts, before he spoke again.

"I'm going to recommend he talk to someone about his experiences and you'll find the pamphlet for a hotline who can direct you to someone who can help him best in his discharge papers. He's also been kept in a location where he received little or no sunlight or the ability to properly exercise. He'll have to take a very strict regimen of vitamin D for a couple months and we'll send a sheet of exercises he can do along with walks to help build muscles back up. Time spent in the sun every day will go a long way as well. We'll keep him for a day to keep an eye on that head wound and if all goes well, he'll get to go home the morning after tomorrow. A nurse will be in with you tomorrow to show you how to care for his wounds. Be mindful of his voice of well. He must have used it very little in the last few weeks." He tucked the clipboard under his arm and gave them a gentle smile, taking in their own exhausted and sallow appearances.

"Now normally we wouldn't allow visitors to stay over night, but in this instance we've agreed we can make an exception. A couple sleep chairs and some extra blankets have been brought in, and he was asking for you when I left. Just keep it calm and you can both stay with him until he's discharged." They thanked the doctor and slipped into the room, taking in the appearance of their friend. Jeremy looked small and scared, unkempt and bruised but undeniably their Jeremy. Jeremy locked eyes with them as the same time they did and he reached one hand out desperately, his face crumpled in distress.

Matt reached him first, enveloping him in his long arms and Jeremy knotted his hand in Trevor's hoodie to tug him forward, mindful of his IV and all the monitoring wires. None of them dared draw attention to their collective inability to hold back the tears and they merely climbed in with him after snagging the blankets left for them, wrapping them all in a warm bundle and blocking out the chill of the room. Trevor leaned forward to rest his nose against Jeremy's temple, relief washing over him.

"You're fine Jeremy. You're alright. You're home." The mantra spilled from his mouth over and over again, seeming to reassure himself and Matt as much as Jeremy, and eventually the trembling subsided, leaving Jeremy curled between them, exhausted but content for the first time in nearly a month. For time they all just lay there, curled into each other and basking in each other's company and Trevor had just begun to drift off when Jeremy tugged on his hoodie, having already gained Matt's attention by poking him. He motioned them both closer and then leaned up to kiss first Matt and then Trevor square on the lips.

Trevor's brain blue screened almost instantly, distantly registering that it was nice, that he had zero objections to Jeremy kissing him and that he wanted to do it again. A lot. And quite often. Matt was apparently of the same mind because he had Jeremy's lips caught in a gentle kiss already, the shorter man boneless and smiling weakly. Trevor nudged Matt aside playfully and met Jeremy for his own kiss. His lips were warm and rough and Trevor hummed as he pulled back, grinning lopsidedly.

"Almost thought I wasn't gonna get to do that." Jeremy's voice was wrecked, soft and graveled and not in the good way, and Trevor's heart panged as the impact of the statement hit him. He leaned forward against and pressed a kiss to Jeremy's temple, and he and Matt pressed closer to him, fierce protectiveness surging through them as Jeremy did his best to burrow between them with his one good arm. Seemingly between one beat the next, they were asleep, none the wiser to the machinations that were occurring across town.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jeremy discharged as the doctor had thought, after spending two nights in the hospital. Twice detectives had come to interview Jeremy again, but since Jeremy had told them he'd been confined and had therefor seen nothing of the place where he was being kept, there was nothing they could really do but add the charges to the ever growing list that belonged to the members of the FAHC. 

Jeremy had to have someone nearby to support him when he walked for the first week, too weak to risk it on his own and he used this as an excuse to hold hands with whoever was with him at the time. He practically lived on their apartment's small balcony from sunup to sundown, soaking in the warm early fall rays of the sun like a fat cat, and they'd moved furniture around so Jeremy could see the TV from the lounge chair he occupied, not willing to make him sit inside if he didn't want to. He wasn't happy with the continued use of the sedative at night, but could understand the dangers of just quitting it after being forced to use it for so long.

There were good days, where he joked and smiled and it was like it never happened, like if they could look past the bandages and the flinching and bruises it would be just like a month ago. Other days weren't nearly as good, and Trevor would always remember the cold sorrow he'd felt the day they came home to find Jeremy desperately trying to shave his beard off. They'd been planning to do it the next day, when Trevor and Matt would both be home at the same time for the entire day, but Jeremy's distress at the very real reminder of his captivity was finally too much.

His hand was shaking, still weak and his non-dominate one to boot, his face already covered in the lather. Trevor gently wrested the straight razor from Jeremy's grip and Matt came up behind him, running broad hands over his trembling shoulders in arms, both murmuring words of comfort and praise until Jeremy leaned back into Matt's larger frame. This allowed the other man to rest his chin in his hair and wrap his arms around the smaller man's chest, his good one coming up to rest over it while the injured one still hung in it's restraining sling.

"Do you want me to help you, Jeremy?" Trevor asked. It wouldn't be the first time he'd helped one of his boyfriends with their facial hair, and he was a dab hand with a straight razor. Jeremy nodded, obviously still not trusting his wrecked voice or his emotional state to answer him verbally. Trevor was slow and gentle, kept up an endless stream of conversation with Matt, filling the room and doing thier level best to keep Jeremy engaged so his mind wouldn't be able to wonder. It took some time, but eventually Trevor was cleaning the blade for the last time, leaving Jeremy completely clean shaven and Matt leaned down to kiss the top of his head as Trevor leaned forward to his the end of his nose. Matt took Jeremy out to the living room while Trevor cleaned up the bathroom and then went to join them for time on the pullout couch with movie and a greasy chinese.

There were other days that were just as bad or half as bad, where he would flinch at loud noises or refuse to be touched and he was just generally surly and unhappy. Two and a half more weeks passed and some bruises had healed, though he still had to wear the stitches in his arm, purely because the wound was so jaggedly made they were afraid to remove them. That day, three weeks after his appearance at the hospital, Jeremy went outside for something that wasn't a doctor's appointment. He was much steadier on his feet now, but he still held Trevor's hand, mainly for a little assurance. Trevor has a meeting in a nearby restaurant, and Jeremy was going to go to one of his favorite cafes a few buildings down. He took comfort from the comforting squeeze Trevor gave him and then headed down the street.

The cafe was a little mom and pop affair, decorated rustic and warm, and the coffee was good and the baked goods even better. The lady at the cashier, a younger employee who'd been forking there for some time, greeted him warmly and said she was glad to see him, without calling attention to his absence or appearance. He ordered his usual of Kona blended coffee with three creams and two sugars and a plate of their pecan coffeecake. She offered to bring it to him and Jeremy thanked her warmly before heading to one of the smaller private booths in the very back of the shop, directly in the sun.

He played around on his phone for a little bit, knowing it wouldn't be much longer for his order and he shot off a message to his friends at the garage, telling them he'd try to shoot for a visit sometime in the near future. As soon as that was shot off there were footsteps at his booth. He looked up, expecting the warm smile of the young woman from the counter. Instead his gaze was filled with sleepy blue eyes, seemingly endless tattoos and a smile that he never ever wanted in his direction ever again. Geoff Ramsey was easing himself into the booth across from him, the tall blonde form of the Vagabond settling next to him while a stunning red head, not one he'd met in his unfortunate time yet, sat next to him.

"Hello Jeremy. We need to have a talk."

 

_End Act One_

**Author's Note:**

> So this one is simply because I wanted more Jeremy in fic, and couldn't stop myself. It's a story in three acts and is being written opposite of the updates for "The Favored Son"


End file.
